Short Stories of Strangers
by Bleeding Heartgrenade
Summary: Little tales about the less known or insignificant characters of FFVII. I will take requests! R&R! Chapter 4 up!
1. When We First Met

Short Stories of Strangers

My little tributes to the less significant people of Final Fantasy VII

Story One: When we first met

* * *

The little girl ran down the stone steps, and sank her bare feet into the gritty, washed-out sand of the shadowy and rocky beach. Her yellow sandals dangled from her fingers as she gazed out across the once crystal clear waters of the sea, but was now dirty and a greenish brown tinge lingered on it. Pollution was clogging up the blackened rock pools and grimy streams of saltwater which lay on the shore. Far on the horizon black specks crawled over the navy-blue ocean. Her father and the men of the village were fishing again. Or at least, trying to.

The girl sighed, and shook her brown locks out of her face, her hazel eyes straining to watch the dots move in the glare of the setting sun, through she could not see the sun from here. She muttered impatiently when the stream of dots drifted out of her line of vision, past the great metal towers that loomed up over the gentle waves which caressed the sand and it's contaminated wounds.

Since Shinra had come, and they had been here as long as the girl could remember, the village was overshadowed by a mass of metal and blinking lights and burning electricity. She wandered down to the water's edge, and sat down, her pink skirts bunched up above her knees. The girl felt rather lonely, because she was the only child in the village. Or at least, the only _little_ child. The rest were older, and did not want to play with her, and most of the families had gone away from the village. She wriggled her toes in the sandy beach, and lifted her eyes to a small square of sky, just visible through the corrugated iron above her. The shaft of golden light illuminated her on the dark rocky beach, and she felt like an angel cast out of heaven.

The fluffy clouds skimmed the pink and gold sky, each the purest white, stained only by the bloody light of the sun, through the square gap above the girl. She lay down on the rocky sand, and began pointing out cloud shapes to herself.

"Bunny…" She murmured, her hazel eyes scanning the square of paradise visible to her. "Boat … Tree … Dolphin-"

A loud, exuberant whistle split the air, and echoed around the beach. The girl sat up, her sandals flying from her fingers, and her hair swinging into her face. A dolphin, a real live dolphin was swimming in the dirty bay in front of her. Its skin was sapphire blue, and it had a mischievous smile about its features. The girl sat gaping at the creature for a moment, then grinned.

Shewaved to the dolphin, and it turned onto its back, and waved a flipper in return. The girl laughed, and stood up, waving her arms in greeting.

"Hiya Mr Dolphin!" She cried, and the Dolphin laughed, jumping into the air, splashing water onto the sand. The girl giggled, and clapped her hands.

"My name's Priscilla. Can you remember that Mr Dolphin?"

The Dolphin whistled and slapped its fins together.

"Whatcha doing here, Mr Dolphin?"

The dolphin gave the dolphin approximation of a shrug, which was difficult, because dolphins don't have shoulders.

"We'll be best friends, right, Mr Dolphin?"

The dolphin nodded its head and blew water at Priscilla, who giggled, and cheered as the dolphin leapt into the air. She gasped as the aquamarine creature leapt clean over an iron bar high over the water, and straight through a ring of sizzling electricity. The girl whooped and applauded as the dolphin swam expertly up to the seashore, and made his laughing, whistling tune. She was so happy. At long last, here was a friend.

"PRI- SCIL - LA - !"

Her mother's shrill voice screeched from the top of stone steps. Priscilla winced at the high note. She turned and saw Mr Dolphin watching her. Pricilla sighed. She didn't want to leave her new friend behind. But she knew keeping her mother waiting was not a good plan.

"I've got to go." Priscilla mumbled, miserably. "See you…"

She stooped, and gathered up her sandals. The dolphin watched her curiously. When Priscilla straightened up, the dolphin was still watching her. Priscilla gave a last glum wave of her hand and began trudging up the stony beach towards the steps. Then the dolphin whistled to her. It was long and piercing, yet it flowed like the sea and was gentle and kind, as though the dolphin was whispering tender words to her ears. An idea shot into Priscilla's brain like a bullet. She snapped her fingers, a beaming smile on her face.

"That's it!"

Priscilla turned back to the Dolphin. It was definitely smiling now, and it whistled happily.

"If we ever need each other, we'll whistle!" Priscilla was delighted by the idea. "So I'll be here tomorrow, and I'll whistle for you!"

The dolphin laughed andflipped onto it's back, and swam backwards out of the bay, it's fin waving at her, as a goodbye. Priscilla watched as Mr Dolphin rolled onto his front and began leaping into the horizon, where the sun had sunk into a blood-streaked cradle, the pink and gold of the sky weaving seamless into the clouds. Priscilla smiled happily. She had a friend now. She had a friend. She -

**_"PRI - SCIL - LA - !"_**

Her mother was standing at the top of the steps, her hands on her hips, scowling at her daughter. Priscilla shuddered, and climbed up the steep steps as fast as possible, so to not make her mother angrier.

Priscilla's mother was a thin, short woman, whose face was constantly frowning. She had crow's feet and shadows carved around her eyes, and her head was bowed, as though it had a great weight on it. Priscilla's father often said that the hardships Shinra had brought had crippled his wife emotionally, and thus, wearied her physically too. She was wearing her grey dress and not-so-white apron, stained with everything you could imagine – seaweed, mud, jam, oil, soap, ink, dust and dirty water. Her face was narrow and stern, and her tongue was sharp as a knife. No sooner had Priscilla stepped onto the cobbled pathway then her mother pounced on her.

"Why didn't you come when I called?" she demanded, shaking a finger in her daughter's face. "I don't like it when you don't answer, I get worried!"

Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, but her mother had seized herdaughter's small hand, wrenched the sandals out of her fingers and was pulling her towards their house, scolding and complaining all the way.

"You have no sense."The older womangrowled, walking briskly through the square where small, squat houses sat, with blackened bricks and crumbling roof tiles. All the curtains were drawn, but here and there a child skipped with a rope, or a wife awaited her husband's return from the sea.

"Imagine if you caught a disease from the pollution down there."

The sharp stones in the path were cutting intoPriscilla's bare feet, but she knew better than to complain. Her mother pushed her up the wooden steps of their house, which was on poles off the ground. Priscilla jumped up the stairs, and pushed the oak door of the house open, after giving a filthy look to the Shinra guard on duty by the lift to the 'upper world'.

The house inside was warm and untidy. Books and saucepans lay jumbled on the floor. Nets and fishing lines were tangled in the sink. An old man, her grandfather snoozed in a rocking chair, his grey hair flopping into his face, his grizzled beard resting on his chest. Priscilla smiled at his sleeping form. She was incredibly fond of her grandfather. He gave her company.

Then the front door opened, and Priscilla fled into her tiny bedroom, diving under the covers of her pink bedspread. She heard her mother walking into the house, closing the door, and then the sound of her grandfather being roughly shaken awake reached her ears. Priscilla sighed and rolled over. Now they were going to argue, just like they always did. And sure enough;

"Why did you let her go down to the beach?" Her mother was screaming again.

"For Planet's sake, she's a child, not a pet! You want to tie her up and make sure she never has fun!" Her grandfather's normally mild voice was risen in anger.

Her mother spluttered in indignation, and then spat out a retort. Priscilla lay huddled under the duvet, listening to the crashing waves and her grandfather's and mother's yells.

Priscilla's room was pink. The walls, the ceiling, the floor - everything. She had some screen-panels that her father had brought back after the war in Wutai. She kept her room neat and tidy - it gave her stability in her life. Then was a circular window like a porthole set in the wall, from which the last red rays of light filtered through. Priscilla grabbed one of her pillows and clamped it over her ears to block out the row in the next room.

Her eyes were half-closed, when a faint, yet clear whistle echoed outside the window. She leapt up, senting her pillows flying, and ran to the round window and looked out. She had a clear view of the ocean from here, and she thought that she could see a dolphin leaping up out of the water in the distance, as the red sun vanished below the waves, and the stars began to twinkle. The house was silent now, and she fancied that she could hear laughter coming from the waves lapping the stone steps by the beach as the tide came in. Priscilla turned and crawled into bed, and slipped into a dream where clear waters washed against her ankles, and fish danced around her, and a clear whistle came down from heaven as she slept beneath the stars.

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Please tell me what you think! Review!

If you have any requests for characters, please tell me!

Coming up next, Story Two: For the last time


	2. For The Last Time

Short Stories of Strangers

My little tributes to the less significant people of Final Fantasy VII

Story Two: For The Last Time

* * *

Here I am.

For the last time.

His eyes look into mine. I know he doesn't want me to go. He doesn't understand the pain, the rage. This storm in my heart. He can't feel what I can. I reach into my pocket – with my right hand, of course.

The cold silver, that was around her neck, brushes against my skin, and I throw it, away, separating it from me. He catches it, with his left hand, naturally. The pain builds and I struggle away. He cries out, begging me to stay. The bitterness is sour in my mouth. _Can you feel it, my friend? This pain…_

I stand here, and look down, into the wide, black chasm, stretching her gaping jagged, toothed mouth beneath me. It's so dark, just like my soul. A fitting place for the damned.

I turn to face him, to watch him shake and stutter. The rage, the hate, it rises like a monster in my heart. _What are you, a coward? Were you ever my friend? You big baby, you worthless piece of filth? _

I suddenly choke, pain strangling my lungs. He starts forward, his fist tightening around the silver pendant. I gasp out words to him, telling him to never, ever make **her** cry.

For the last time.

Then my arms rise above my head, and I let go. My body falls backwards, and I sink into the abyss. He howls my name, a wounded, inhuman wail that drives me down, away from the light. Then silence.

* * *

Eleanor.

Can you hear me, Eleanor?

I am coming.

The wind whips my face, as I fall down, down away from the light.

These pains, this hatred, make it go away, my love and my only.

I am falling.

I will accept death, I must accept death.

Why is death such a bad thing?

I wanted to free everyone from the stranglehold of life. Like Marlene.

She misses you. But not me.

My hands are stained with blood.

Life is such an evil thing.

Only death sets us free.

Why is there such sorrow in death?

Why should man lament the state he should envy?

I raise my arms above my head.

Death is coming to greet me.

I see him now.

Eleanor, your loving husband is coming.

The jagged bottom of the pit is rushing up towards me.

I close my eyes.

And breathe the burning, polluted air of this foul life.

This fallen angel is alive here and now...

...For the last time.

* * *

Quite a short one!

Please tell me what you think! Review!

If you have any requests for characters, please tell me!

Coming up next, Story Three: The Last stand.


	3. The Last stand

Short Stories of Strangers

My little tributes to the less significant people of Final Fantasy VII. I'm sorry, it does seem like a lot of these stories are full of death. If you have any requests for insignificant characters that you want me to write about, please tell me!

Story Three: The Last Stand

* * *

A door flies open, and heads turn. Wild fear, consumes minds. A tall, black man is standing, framed in a doorway, shouting.

"They're attacking! The tower, c'mon!"

Feet pounds polished wood. Then runs over mud and hard earth. Voices rise to a scream, and people run hither and thither like lost sheep, confused, afraid. Then the boots touch metal. Tall steps, leading up, up, up, straight into hell. Run up to the top. White hot lead splits the air cleanly.

"GET DOWN!"

Blood flows from a lip, as a young man flings himself from the top of the stairs, where bullets bury themselves into the framework. He has a red bandana in his black hair, and a green vest and baggy, stained trousers, which are ripped, revealing grazed knees and a soldier in blue Shinra uniform jumps from the platform, and crouches there, aiming the gun at the man, lying on a flight of stairs, crumpled.

A knife whistles through the air, and embeds itself in the soldier's flesh. He cries out, jerks, and sinks to the ground, soaking in his own blood. The man staggers upright, and looks blindly around.

"Jessie!"

An auburn haired woman swings upside-down by her feet from the platform above him. Above her there is a ceiling, a huge metal and concrete plate – the upper world. The woman swings from the tall pillar, supporting Sector 7, and a winding staircase climbs the tower. High above them, a helicopter circles the platform. The woman may have smiled, if she'd had a chance. But a loud BANG! rocks the gigantic tower. Jessie lurches, and her feet slip. She falls and is crushed against the staircase.

"JESSIE!"

Feet, running down the metal stairs. A desperate hand touches a soft cheek, and feels hot, sticky blood, sliding down into a panting mouth. The woman called Jessie chokes and slides down against the iron framework of the stairs.

"Biggs…Bi…ggs…" she speaks in a strangled voice, a trembling hand at her mouth. The man reaches out to her, but she shakes her head.

"Barret…We…Wedge." Harsh, rasping breaths. Life comes and goes in haste. "They need y-you. Stop the soldiers c-coming."

Biggs nods, and runs down the stairs, he pulls a pistol from his pocket. He is met by bullets piercing the air, as soldiers stream up the staircase by the pillar, to stop the rebels.

He keeps firing, soldiers, flying off the stairs, yelling and firing wildly. Then his gun clicks. Empty. Then a fist connects with his jaw. Blood gushes through his clenched teeth. Then a foot kicks his stomach, and he collapses. Another fist strikes his chest, and he feels ribs breaking. The blows keep coming, his face and his body being punished by the cruel frenzy. Then a cold voice speaks.

"Leave him." It says. "He will die."

And the man is left, staring at the ground, buckling weakly against the iron rail of the staircase. To die.

* * *

Small, hot, deadly.

They split the air, slicing calm like knives, and the hard, metal bullets sank into flesh, searing the skin, spilling blood. Fingers became numb, and a pistol clattered on the floor. White clothing is stained red. Legs buckled. The man stumbled back and hit the railing, tipping backwards. For a moment, he wobbled, his wounds, oozing steadily. Then his weight succumbed to gravity, and he fell back, and into cold, empty air.

A familiar voice shouted for him, but he was plummeting down, metal stairs flashing past him, light and sounds blending into a mindless blur. Then he hit solid ground. His bones jangled, and his organs sloshed around under his skin. The impact choked him, and all air rushed from his lungs. He had fallen 50 feet to the floor, and darkness was pouring into his eyes. A distorted face swam into his vision, then another, which came close, and a woman's voice entered his senses.

"Wedge! Wedge, answer me!"

"Tif…" A croak came out of the dying man's throat. "Tif…Barret, he…"

"What is it Wedge?" A face with a mass of blond, spiky hair twisted before his eyes. Cloud.

"Cl…Cloud." He coughed, bringing up blood. "Barret…needs…y-you. Go…quick…ly."

The face bobbed out of focus, and he heard a far away voice say, "Aeris, please look after Wedge."

A blurred and unfamiliar face with a mass of brown, silken hair swam into his line of sight, and a small of flowers wafted into his nostrils. He suddenly, through his agony, felt a sense of soothing calm fill his heart. A gentle, warm hand enveloped his, reassuring and kind.

"Aeris," Tifa's distant voice was urgent. "I've got a bar called Seventh Heaven in this Sector. There's a little girl called Marlene there. Could you…?"

"Of course." The reply was understanding and calm.

"Let's go!" Cloud's voice fled from his senses, and he heard, distantly, feet pounding up iron stairs. Wedge silently willed for Cloud and Tifa to go, to help Barret, to stop the deaths of the people of the Sector Seven slums.

The gentle voice spoke again, and the sweet scent of lilies swept over his face, caressing his cheek.

"I must go, to find Marlene." The female voice whispered in his ear. Wedge wanted to say 'don't go!', but he merely choked on his own blood. The blurred face vanished from above his eyes, and he was left, staring at the plate high above him. Pain stabbed at his insides, and his flesh broke, and bled. This was his last stand. And he was ready to die. For the planet.

* * *

Blood. Coppery, it tastes bitter. The man is sprawled at the foot of the stairs. Biggs is dying. People reach out to him. He recognizes them, from beneath his bloodshot, heavy lidded eyes.

"Cloud…you really did come here to help us…? You…really do care about…what happens…to the Planet…?" He says, then chokes, and spits out blood. It is bitter on his tongue. He barely hears the response, and he shakes his bruised head when they reach out to him again.

"N-no!" Biggs mutters, his head lolling on his neck. "Barret! G-go to Barret."

Black is swirling around him, filling his eyes. He hears them clatter away, and he collapses, feeling cold metal under his bloodstained fingers. Biggs will die. He will die, because he believes that the Planet will die. He lifts his head, and sees droplets of blood pouring down on him from the sky.

* * *

The woman named Jessie is soaking in her own blood, her body crushed and frail. Her blood seeps through the iron mesh beneath her, and she raises her head blindly and dimly sees heavy boots coming towards her.

"Jessie!"

"Ti…fa?" She asked in a strangled voice. "Cl…oud?"

Hands grabbed her arms, but she coughed and shook her head frantically. The hands stopped moving.

"Helicopter…Barret." She moaned in pain, and rolled onto her back, the hand releasing their grip. "Up top…g……Go!"

The boots ran away, and Jessie was left, bleeding on the stairs. She coughed and wheezed. Her lungs didn't want to take in oxygen. If only she had worked out sooner what Shinra planned to do. She had been foolish. But did she believe it was for nothing? No. This was for the planet. This was her last stand.

* * *

For awhile, three people lay dying in silence, unnoticed, staring at the huge plate above them. A fiery detonation blasted above the stairs, shaking the slums, and the plate above. Then the stone pillar cracked. A massive chunk of stone fell, smashing the stairs to the ground, and Biggs and Jessie were sent flying to the ground, sprawled next to Wedge. They all lay crumpled together, bleeding freely, their blood mingling. People were screaming, running away from the twisted mass of stairs. Wedge slowly raised his hand as another explosion rocked the slums. He found Biggs' fingers, and gripped them. Biggs glanced up from the dirt floor, and grinned weakly. He reached out, and held Jessie's hand, and she blinked and smiled, blood dripping down from her temple. Jessie stretched out her trembling fingers and grabbed Wedge's fat fingers. They lay there, holding each other, watching the wobbling plate overhead. Then one side of the plate slipped, whining and howling as wires snapped and concrete shook. The three of them shivered.

"For the Planet?" Biggs said suddenly, spitting out blood.

"For the Planet." Jessie and Wedge croaked.

Then the plate above them screamed with a million terrified people, and it rushed down to meet them, stone and metal flying like rain. Man, women and children in the slums stood still and watched in horror as the pillar crumpled like a straw, and fire and brimstone rushed at them. Jessie, Wedge and Biggs closed their eyes, and excepted death without flinching. This had been their last stand.

* * *

Please tell me what you think! Review! 

Next up, Story 4: Comforting and comfort of the angel

Coming up next, 


	4. Comforting and Comfort of the Angel

Short Stories of Strangers

My little tributes to the less significant people of Final Fantasy VII

Story Four: Comforting and Comfort Of the Angel

* * *

He's coming home!

Your reflection bounces in the mirror, happy and smiling. You can't wait. He, your love, your husband for five years, David, is coming home from the war on leave! How wonderful. He will arrive back in Midgar today at six O'clock at the Sector 5 station. You spend the day flying around the house, tidying shelves, cleaning tables and sweeping the floors. At five O'clock you smooth your white apron that is hanging on a peg by the door, pull on a shawl and sit at the table, overcome with excitement. You read the letter over and over again, which lies unfolded and smoothed flat on the table. It has been a long time since you saw him, and you have missed him terribly.

Finally, as the long hand on the clock crawls towards the number twelve, you stand up and push the door open, and walk out into the Sector 5 slums. Other people are making their way to the station to greet their friends and lovers coming home on leave. You reach the station, and see a young couple lounging by a lamppost. The girl reaches out and cups the boy's cheek with her hand and says something. The boy smiles and wraps his arms around her and spins her around. The girl laughs, and the boy lets her go and leaps onto the lamppost and swings on it. You smile; you are used to seeing such shows of affection. The girl laughs at her boyfriend's actions and holds out her hand to him. The boy takes it, and together they walk out of the station. As they pass you, you greet them; "Good evening, Jessie, Biggs."

"Good evening ma'am!" They reply and you walk on, towards the platform. As you climb up the stone steps onto the platform, all the people on in start peering anxiously down the railway lines. You see the guard waving and hear the screech of the train's brakes as it glides in the station. The people step backwards, and wait as the train stops, and the carriage doors slide open.

A young man in a light blue shirt steps out of the carriage and looks around. A young woman with short dyed red hair and leather clothes jumps forward and smothers the man in a hug. The man blushes and tries to coax her off him. When she lets go, she seizes his wrist and pulls him across the platform and through the crowd and down the road. Some of the group laughs, and you smile to yourself, thinking about whether you should do that to David.

Another man exits the train. Everyone cheers. It's Mr. Hamfon, the owner of the Weapon Shop, in his maroon waistcoat and white shirt, which stretch over his massive belly. He's very popular around here, always laughing and joking. He's quite old too, the grey hair showing plainly among the black. He grins at the attention, and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. Mrs. Hamfon walks towards him, her pink dress swirling in the electric light of the station and her husband spreads him arms and hugs her. Then, to everyone's shock, she lifts him in the air and twirls him around! This is shocking because he is twice her weight, and Mrs. Hamfon is a tiny woman, just over a meter high! The crowd on the platform laughs and gasps and a few of them clap. The Hamfons walk away and more men exit the train. People join up and hug and walk away. There are kisses and hugs and tears. Then they left. And you are alone on the platform. The guard slides and compartment doors shut.

You walk up to the guard and tap his shoulder. He turns around and looks at you.

"Aren't…aren't there any more passengers?" You say hoarsely, your mouth dry. He shakes his head. You turn and walk off the platform and sit to the stone steps. You can still hear the happy laughter of people down the road. You put your face in your hands, and feel hot tears slide down your face.

* * *

You go to the station everyday, hopeful, and leave the station everyday, disappointed. You wonder what has happened to David, though you reassure yourself that his leave was just canceled. You are lonely, so very lonely. Until, one day…

* * *

You walk the path you have trod for so long, to the station, hoping against hope that, this time, David will be there. But instead you see something else. A woman is slumped against the stone steps, a young girl next to her, who is sobbing uncontrollably. This scene is familiar; this sort of thing happens a lot during the war. You run up to the pair. The woman is very beautiful, dressed in a long red dress and red shoes. There is a purple sash around her waist, and a dark stain is spreading on it and the dress. She is dying. You kneel down and try to stop the bleeding with your shawl, but to no avail. The little girl sobbing next to her mother's body has her mother's emerald eyes and brown hair. The child runs up to you and clings to you, crying. Looking down at her tear-filled, shining green eyes, you feel a lump rise in your throat. The woman chokes and you bend over her, and she turns her head to look at you. Her mouth moves, and you bend closer to listen.

"Please take Aeris somewhere safe.' She whispers, and then lets out a sigh like a murmured breeze and lies still. The little girl wails and her body trembles. A crowd has gathered, and watch the child and her dead mother sorrowfully. You stand up, and turn to the throng of people.

"Will someone please carry the mother to my garden? We can bury her there."

Several of the men come forward. Some women have brought a sheet, and they tenderly lay the body on it. The men carry the body away, and you are left with the child. She clings to your leg, and you reach down and pick her up. You hold her as she cries, and rock her slowly, comfortingly. Her soft turquoise jumper is splattered with her tears and her mother's blood. Gradually, her weeping subsides, and she falls asleep. You carry her back home, where, in the garden, (which is nothing more than two circular areas of dirt) a freshly made grave resides. The men have already buried her and left. You look at the grave, the sleeping girl in your arms. Then, you turn and enter the house again, and take her upstairs and tuck her into the spare bed. You go back downstairs and wash the blood off your hands. You make a coffee, and sit at the table sipping the hot drink. Later, after washing up the cup, you go to bed. In the night, you hear the child having a nightmare, crying and wailing for her mother. You go into her room, and spend the night stroking her forehead gently and holding her in your arms.

* * *

It has been three years since you comforted Aeris at the station. You are out in the garden, tending the flowers. The garden had never sprouted a single blade of grass before Aeris came. David had said it was the amount of Mako being pumped around, it poisoned the earth. But the day after Aeris' mother was buried in the garden, a green stalk had pushed its way out of the soil, grown a large bud and opened to reveal a delicate yellow flower. Aeris had been delighted, and now the garden was covered in grass and flowers. You love Aeris very much, and you know she loves you. She calls you 'mom' now. You stand up, brushing dirt off your hands and apron and stroll back to the house. You push the door open and walk to the sink. As you are putting your hands under the hot tap, you hear Aeris call you; "Mom."

You dry your hands on the towel and turn off the hot water as Aeris walks down the stairs. She is dressed in her peach-coloured dress with her brown shoes, her white socks rolled down to her ankles. Her chocolate locks are tied back by a yellow springy hairband. Aeris walks up to you, smiling. But then her smile fades, and she blurts out, "Please don't cry."

You look down at her, and become worried. "Has something happened?" You ask her.

She nods, and says, "Someone dear to you has just died. His spirit was coming to see you but he already returned to the planet."

You are taken aback, and don't believe her. But there it is again. 'Returned to the planet'. What does it mean? She says it so often. And someone has died? She must be mistaken.

She is not mistaken. The letter in your hand says she is not mistaken. David. Your beloved David is dead. Killed in war. You are slumped against the table, crying. Then a pair of small arms wrap around your waist. You raise your head, and look around. Aeris is hugging you, her face buried in your chest. She looks up at you, and says;

"Don't cry Mom. Please don't cry."

Somehow, the fact that she is here and caring for you, it comforts you. You lift her onto your lap and she hugs you. You hug her back and look again at the letter. The fact that David is gone is, and always will be, painful. But you can bear the pain if someone is there to help you. Someone who is kind and sweet and understanding. And Aeris is just that sort of person.


End file.
